


The Second Years

by TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drama, M/M, Magic, Magical school, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Teen Angst, Unrequited Crush, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard
Summary: Magical school isn't always magical but it is always school.





	1. Lee Jeno And The Sealed-Away Imp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a field trip.

June 2019

Jeno decides that he rather enjoys bus rides. All the fun of traveling and sight-seeing without the headache of driving. He also knows that he could enjoy this particular bus trip so much more if the ride weren’t so bumpy. He can hear the old ceramic jar’s rattles in his knapsack and he fears the bus rolling over a bad enough pothole will crack it open and unleash hell. “A wooden box would have been a lot sturdier,” he mumbles to the young man pretending to take a nap in the seat beside him. “A wooden box would have been so much… safer.”

  
  
“A wooden box,” states Donghyuck, not bothering to open his eyes, “would have destroyed the aesthetic. It _had_ to be an antique jar.” 

  
  
“I don’t think imps care about what they get sealed up in.” Jeno sinks lower in the seat, spreading his long legs. He doesn’t mean to press his knee into Donghyuck’s thigh but he’s quietly happy that the prickly boy doesn’t pull away. He argues, “Just as long as it has a lid, it works. We could have used a cookie tin. A Scrabble box!” Jeno wears a black tank-top and leather pants, which aren’t the ideal clothing for three-hour hikes through the mountains, but he firmly believes in fashion over function so it’s okay. Jeno runs his index finger over the outlines of his tattoos or, as sorcerers call them, containment marks. The special ink on a sorcerer's skin keeps their magic in check. And based on the fact that both of Jeno’s arms are marked from shoulder to wrist, Jeno only assumes he has quite a bit of magic to keep contained. He never particularly thought to ask for his specific power level but he can cast better spells than Jaemin and that means a lot because the Na family is _famous_. “Hell, we could have used a cigarette pack. That would have been less obvious than some blatantly suspicious ancient pottery.”

  
  
“We summoned and trapped a low-level demon. We might as well go all out and seal it in a decent-looking vessel. Give it a nice new home.” Donghyuck has this quick, soft, hurried method of speaking like every word out of his mouth is a closely-guarded secret. “But if we get caught...” He goes quiet but Jeno knows the weight of a threat when he hears one.

  
  
“We’ll be fine,” Jeno says, running a hand through his dark and shaggy mullet. It is getting quite long again. It nearly touches his shoulders. “You put a pretty strong dampening spell on it. I don’t think that many people will sniff it out.”

  
  
The bus roars around a curve and takes them further out of the mountains. There aren’t too many other passengers on the bus, just a handful of outdoorsy couples finished with their hiking for the afternoon. It _is_ a good day for hiking. The trees are the brightest emerald green Jeno’s ever seen, like something out of a fairy tale. The sky is clear and beautiful and the early evening sun catches the leaves just right and it’s like the whole world is glowing.

  
  
Such a landscape reminds him of his roommate. Jaemin’s specialty is earth magic: communicating with flowers and trees and healing even the worst wounds with just sunlight. Jeno always thought it rather ironic that such a gentle magic was practiced by the rudest, most ill-tempered boy he’s ever met.

  
  
“Thanks for coming with me, though,” Jeno says. “Demon summoning is a group project.”

  
  
Donghyuck keeps his eyes closed and his mouth in a slight frown but if you know him, you can hear the self-satisfaction in his voice when he rhetorically asks, “You’d think I’d stay in the dorm and miss out on the opportunity to show off?” And show off he did. Jeno has to admit that although he’d done the blood magic necessary to open the gates of hell and lure the imp through the summoning circle, Donghyuck had done all the work in terms of sealing it. He rolled through the long chain of binding spells in that hurried way he did everything before Jeno had even recovered from the blood loss. “So what are we going to do with the thing?” Donghyuck asks, finally opening his eyes and looking up at him. 

Jeno thinks they are the prettiest shade of brown in the whole wide world but he’ll never work up the nerve to say it aloud. He looks away from them. “To be honest, I didn’t think that far ahead,” Jeno admits. “I just woke up with the urge to skip classes and catch a demon so that’s what I-- what we did.”

  
  
“So gung-ho,” Donghyuck muses but Jeno can’t tell if he’s serious or teasing.

  
  
“Look, I’ll probably put the jar on top of my dresser and forget what’s in it by graduation.”

  
  
“Okay, now that sounds dangerous,” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest and shuts his eyes again. “You’ll reach for it thinking it’s full of candy and then you pop open the lid and there’s fire and brimstone everywhere.” 

Jeno takes a moment to look at Donghyuck. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light, his leather jacket still smells new and his eyeliner is a tad smudged from their trek through the woods. The top of his containment mark - a rose - peeks out from beneath the collar of his pastel blue shirt and loops behind his ear. Donghyuck’s neck is long and smooth and tan and, sometimes, Jeno wants to place his hand there but he is afraid to touch it because a rose like that definitely has thorns and will definitely make him bleed, but he can’t stop himself from imagining that he is brave enough to do it. Brave enough to cross the boundary and _ hold _ Donghyuck. He tightens his hand into a fist so he won’t get any ideas. “Do you think Jaemin will mess with the jar,” he asks to keep the conversation going, to take his mind off things. “He’s the nosiest roommate that’s ever lived.”

  
  
“I hope he does,” Donghyuck mumbles. “If he gets possessed by the little demon, do you think he’ll be nicer?”

  
  
“I don’t think imps possess people,” Jeno says, pouting as he thinks it through. “Or do they? I didn’t pass that class.”

  
  
Donghyuck makes a noncommittal sound that Jeno assumes is the end of the conversation so he turns back to the window right as the bus crosses over a wooden bridge. The vehicle passes a river that’s wide and shallow and as clear as glass. Even from this height, Jeno sees the rocks that line the river bottom and catches a glimpse of darting silver streaks that must be fish. Or baby serpents, maybe? Creatures were never his strong suit. 

It is getting close to sunset and the peaks of the mountains start to block the sun’s light and stretch deep, purple shadows across the road. There’s just something about being out here that fills Jeno with comfort and his magical affinity isn’t even with plants! It’s an entirely different world from the jungle of glass and steel and brick of the city. Even their school with its tall stone walls and sweeping staircases feels claustrophobic in comparison to all of this _ sky _. Jeno wants to spend a week out in these mountains, camping and hiking. He wants to bring Donghyuck so that they can look at the stars together every night. Then he figures he would have to bring Jaemin or they’d eat the wrong berries or traipse through a patch of poison ivy or set up their tents on an anthill. But if he brings Jaemin, he may as well get Donghyuck to bring Renjun so they can more easily trade off listen-to-Jaemin-complain-about-his-girlfriend duties. “Do you want to go camping,” Jeno blurts out.

  
  
“Absolutely not,” Donghyuck says quickly.

  
  
“We can look at the stars,” Jeno says, then backpedals. “I mean… you can study them better out here. No obstructions.”

  
  
Donghyuck doesn’t immediately disagree so Jeno considers this a success. Just mention stars and Donghyuck, tough as he tries to appear with the shaved sides of his head, will usually cave. His specialty is star magic, after all. Fortune telling, navigating, cloaking things. He’s mastered all sorts of sparkly spells and, unlike Jaemin, Jeno thinks that kind of magic fits Donghyuck perfectly. Donghyuck speaks like he has a lot of secrets and secrets feel like a very nighttime thing.

  
  
“So is that a yes?” Jeno wonders, grinning from ear to ear. “You’ll go camping with me?”

  
  
“It’s not a no,” Donghyuck responds and Jeno decides that’s the closest he’s going to get so he accepts it and doesn’t press it so Donghyuck won’t have the chance to think twice and change his mind.

  
  
Thankfully, they don’t hit any massive potholes.

  
  
At the base of the mountains, the tiny road they are on merges with a highway and the bus engine roars louder and higher as they pick up speed. The mountains look different from this angle, less magical, and Jeno frowns as he spots the lights of the city on the horizon, the haze of smog hanging above the skyscrapers as visible as a curse. “You think anybody noticed we were gone today?” Jeno asks when they’ve been riding for a long while, listening to the hushed conversations of the other passengers. 

Donghyuck sighs. “I doubt Renjun would have noticed. We don’t share any classes this quarter. Poor bastard’s still on student ambassador duty, too, babysitting those fellows from overseas.”

  
  
“Jaemin has probably thrown a fit,” Jeno huffs. “He keeps track of me like we’re dating.”

“Oh, you two aren’t together?” Donghyuck cracks open an eye and glances over at him with an unreadable expression. “Could have fooled me with that chemistry.” He closes his eye again.

Jeno stiffens. He isn’t sure if it’s another of Donghyuck’s scathing jokes or if the boy seriously thinks he and Jaemin are a _ thing _. Instead of directly responding, he just says, “I probably have fifteen missed calls from him.”

  
  
The two of them made the deliberate decision to leave their cell phones in their dorms so that any kind of tracer spells wouldn’t point to way out here in the mountains... but Jaemin is nosy and Jeno won’t put it past his roommate to try something a little… brazen.

  
  
The high, rattling whine of the bus engine slows down considerably and both Donghyuck and Jeno lean forward to peer over the seat in front of them and out the bus’s front windshield. They still aren’t close to their school. Hell, they still aren’t close to the city limits. Traffic moving in the opposite direction, out of town, is moving as normal, but their side of the highway is backed up bumper to bumper and it is Donghyuck who spots the police lights up ahead.

  
  
“I don’t see a wreck,” he states. “No ambulances or fire trucks.”

  
  
The sun is setting properly now, the sky behind them a brilliant bouquet of yellows and pinks and purples. The piercing glow of all the brake lights makes it hard to see what’s up ahead but Jeno’s already got a feeling. “It’s a checkpoint,” he says as he recalls the news broadcast that morning. “The summer solstice is right around the corner so the authorities are cracking down on what artifacts are allowed into the city.”

  
  
Jeno and Donghyuck both eye Jeno’s knapsack warily.

  
  
Not only is the imp’s antique jar in there, but all of the objects needed for the sealing spell and the summoning ritual. Separately, the items are already questionable. Sealing spells could possibly slide in the month of October when spirits more frequently get stuck in the world of the living, but blood magic - and demon summoning in particular - has been banned since The Great 2016 Fire. 

Sometimes Jeno hates his own spontaneity. “I just _ had _ to get a demon for a pet, didn’t I?”

The two sorcerers stare at each other under the bus’s buzzing fluorescent lights and Donghyuck echoes his earlier threat: “If we get caught…”

  
  
“Can you hide them?” Jeno whispers, lifting his knapsack.

  
  
“I’d have to cast a different cloaking spell for every individual item and even if we have the time for all of that, if they use dogs, the mutts will sniff it out.”

  
  
That’s the thing about magic. It has a smell. The stronger the spell the heavier the scent of it lingers in the air. Donghyuck’s star magic smells delicate and floral and homelike. Jeno's own smells like lit matches and burning plastic. “Let’s throw everything except the jar out of the window,” Jeno hastily, dumbly suggests. He starts to slide down the bus window, but--

  
  
“Do you hear yourself?” Donghyuck points past Jeno out the window where an SUV idles next to the bus in the neighboring lane. The child in the backseat stares up at the two of them curiously, at the boys who look more like rock band members than students.

  
  
They whisper-argue over smuggling methods as the bus moves closer and closer to the checkpoint. Officers swarm around the vehicles in the streets with their flashlights and magic-sniffing hounds, all in the name of public safety.

  
  
The two of them take too long to decide. 

A pair of officers board the bus. One is a large-nosed woman with her blonde-streaked hair buzzed fashionably short. Her partner is a squarely-built guy with awkward features who doesn’t look much older than the sorcerers. The male leads a handsome, gray-furred boxer down the bus’s aisle and the dog sniffs at the floor, pauses, sniffs, pauses, sniffs… then raises its snout and looks straight at Jeno’s knapsack.

  
  
“Evening, gentleman,” the young officer says smoothly, aiming his flashlight in Donghyuck’s face and then Jeno’s, both of them squint and squirm beneath the light. “What do you have there?” The beam of light moves in a lazy circle around the knapsack.

  
  
“School supplies,” Jeno lies, but not only does he manage it with a straight face, he looks the officer right in the eye as he does it. The perks of being a delinquent.

  
  
Donghyuck silently applauds his moxy.

  
  
The officer gives the dog’s leash a gentle tug, as if that is all the explanation he needs and he is going to end it at that, but the dog remains stiff and lets out a low, disconcerting growl. The officer pins the flashlight beam on Jeno’s face again, who raises a hand to block the unnecessary light on the brightly-lit bus. The man demands, “Can you open the bag?”

  
  
Jeno figures he can keep the easy lies rolling. “I don’t see what the problem is, officer. We’re just trying to get back on campus before curfew. Don’t want our weekend privileges revoked.” As if skipping classes doesn’t already threaten such privileges.

  
  
Donghyuck pushes his knee against Jeno’s leg hard; a silent warning: _don’t be a dick_.

  
  
“But since you want me to open it, I’ll open it.” Jeno puts on his best smile and slowly moves his hands to the knapsack. He thinks it’s rather fashionable, all things considered; it's made of distressed denim and dark leather straps and gold zippers. All it is missing is a burned-on sigil and it’ll look like it belongs to a member of a biker gang. Jeno sits the bag on his lap and unhooks the main flap and tilts everything so that the officer can easily see its contents.

  
  
It’s all there, right in the open. The elements for the sealing spell, tiny mirrors and scraps of paper with power words scribbled on them; the knife and bowl and chalk and parchment and faintly glowing crystals for the demon summoning spell; and, right on top, the antique jar where a low-level demon (but still a demon) is now sealed. The only thing keeping the imp in the jar is a slight twist of the lid to the right and the officer’s flashlight beam is aimed right at it.

  
  
“What’s that?” The young officer tilts his head curiously. “Care to explain?” 

His older partner notices the tension in the air and moves up behind the man to peer over his shoulder. Her hawk-like gaze scrapes over both of the boys as if committing their faces to memory. First Donghyuck and then Jeno. Her eyes linger on Jeno’s unorthodox number of containment marks and she visibly stiffens.

  
  
“It’s an antique,” Jeno pipes up, trying to remain carefree. “Just bought it at a thrift store.” That much was true if way earlier that morning can be considered ‘just.’ Then he remembers the word Donghyuck had used. “It’s aesthetic!”

  
  
Donghyuck’s knee digs into his leg again. Don’t be a dick.

  
  
“It is rather beautiful,” the female officer points out. “The painting style could be Joseon-era but I doubt the colors would be so vibrant after so long. If the seller told you it’s authentic, you may have been scammed.” Donghyuck lets out a snort. The officer says, “Regardless, we have reason to believe it could be dangerous.” She reaches for it.

  
  
“Don’t touch it,” Jeno exclaims, louder than he intends. The female officer startles at the sudden baritone of his voice. “It’s delicate,” he tries to smooth things over. “See? It’s thin like expensive porcelain.”

  
  
The officers share a look and Jeno slumps back in his seat because he knows he’s messed things up somehow. 

Donghyuck turns in the seat. His knees are out in the aisle, but more importantly, they are no longer pressed against Jeno’s thighs.

It’s the younger, male officer that says, “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind, we will need to confiscate this bag. Please exit the bus so that we can ask you a few questions.”

Only then is Jeno made aware that all of the other passengers are staring at them. Their phones record them. Their fingers are pointed right at them. Their whispers are certainly about them. His cheeks go red from anger.

  
  
The female officer reaches for the knapsack, fingers curling around one of the bag’s leather straps. Jeno wants to yank it from her hands but he forces himself to sit still, to play it cool. She lifts it out of his grasp, but not gently enough, and Jeno feels the weight in the bag _shift _before the old jar slips out. It falls through the air slower than gravity should let it and Jeno realizes he can just grab it out of the air if he reaches for it, but... it’s too late.

  
  
The old clay jar hits the floor of the bus with a crash louder and deeper than something its size should have made. The sound is soul rattling. Donghyuck covers his ears and the dog leaps back and whines. The air in the bus goes super hot like it is the middle of the day during a heat wave and the entire bus shakes and rattles. Then, in a blink, all of the windows explode outward in a terrifying cascade of glass as the imp escapes its confines.

  
  
Jeno only sees the demons’s cinder-covered face for a moment, but he still thinks it looks a little like Jaemin.


	2. Lee Jeno And The Academic Merits Of Compatibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a confession.

May, 2019

  
The rehearsals for this moment have eaten away at a week’s worth of Jeno’s early mornings but it is one of those situations where Donghyuck, of all people, has asked him for a _ favor _ so he definitely can’t say no as much as he wants to. Tonight’s the real night, though. _ The _ night. After this, Jeno can go back to sleeping in until two minutes before class. One minute if he decides he can get away with not brushing his teeth.

  
  
“It’s fifteen after three,” Jeno announces once he checks his phone. “In the morning, might I add. Do you think he forgot?”

  
  
“No, I don’t,” Donghyuck states. “You don’t seem to know much about relationships.”

  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean? Getting up at three in the morning for someone is a common part of relationships?” That sounds awful. “I wouldn’t get out of bed at three in the morning even for-” He stops mid-sentence because he almost says _you_. As in Donghyuck. As in the boy he’s liked since his freshman year. “Even for a fire drill,” he finishes. It’s a rough recovery but it apparently works because Donghyuck pays no notice to the slip up. Jeno says, “I slept through the last one. Remember?”

“The angle of the moon is perfect during this hour, so stop whining.”

  
  
They are kneeling beneath the bleachers of the school’s pool area. It is long after lights out. Or shortly before morning call if you change how you think about things. It’s a clear night. Donghyuck is correct. Silvery moonlight pours in through the glass windows near the ceiling and all of that light reflects off the chlorinated water and shimmers across the tile walls in miniature rainbows. It’s... _pretty_ and a little perfect and Donghyuck is right next to him but Jeno knows this isn’t the time for confessions because this moment isn’t about the two of them because there isn’t ‘the two of them.’ 

From their hiding spot beneath the bleachers, the two fledgling sorcerers watch their senior Sicheng standing on the edge of the pool, his heels above the water, staying balanced with his bare toes. He wears a loose-fitting white shirt and pants and holds a gold, decorative sword in his hand and, lit up by all of the moonlight, he looks a tad godlike. Then again, Sicheng claims his family are descendants of Fu Xi, so maybe that’s why.

It’s not until just shy of thirty minutes past three that, with a terribly loud creak, one of the doors to the pool opens and bumbling, beautiful Yukhei walks in. His hair is messy and he is in his pajamas looking unsure and a little groggy but when he spots Sicheng, he smiles. “I thought that the letter was a prank but you’re actually here. What’s all this about?” His bright voice is the only other sound in the room save for the rhythmic movements of the water.

  
  
“I wanted to show you something,” Sicheng says, “So please watch, okay? Watch everything and feel everything.”

  
  
“Okay…” Yukhei glances over his shoulder at the door he’s just come through, as if expecting a prefect to catch them here and assign detention. Jeno mentally pats himself on the back since he was the one who paid off the two prefects who patrol this building after curfew. “I’m not sure I understand why--”

  
  
“You’ll love it, Xuxi,” Sicheng says and even from this distance, Jeno can tell that the young man is so in love. It’s in the way Sicheng is looking at Yukhei like the tall, clumsy fool is the most precious treasure in the world, the smile on his face as bright as the moon. Jeno glances towards Donghyuck and doesn’t know whether he hopes that Donghyuck has noticed or _hasn’t_ noticed the way Jeno smiles at him.

“It’s three in the morning, Sicheng,” Yukhei states, but he’s not making a move to leave. “You couldn’t show me later?” Despite his complaints, he looks across the tiles at Sicheng with anticipation in his eyes, his fingers toy with the buttons of his sleep shirt. He’s curious and excited, emotions that outweigh fear of demerits or detention quite easily.

  
  
“It’ll be quick,” Sicheng says and he bows at the waist to Yukhei before gracefully spinning off of the pool edge and down to the blue-green below. His bare feet hardly splash as he stands on the surface of the water like it is solid. Jeno’s never seen Sicheng do this before so both he and Yukhei’s jaws drop as Sicheng steps across the water’s surface. Jeno knows Sicheng's affinity is with water magic, but he still can’t imagine the amount of discipline it takes to _walk on water_. The subtleties and delicate pattern weavings of the spells necessary to change the water’s surface tension or perhaps decrease Sicheng’s own weight are probably mind-boggling alone and yet Sicheng still has the concentration to move with such grace and such poise, like he is not straining at all… It’s unreal.

Perhaps he does have a bit of divinity in him.

  
  
Sicheng dips at the waist to drag the tip of his blade through the water as if to prove that it’s still water, that it’s not an illusion. Left, right, left, right, he swings, splashing water on either side of him while his steps remain confident and sure. He turns it into a dance, the sword and his feet drag across the water and the waves that form at his heels turn into shapes. Tiny dragons, blossoming flowers, hills, clouds, a flock of birds. His sword dance becomes even more fluid in its movements and the shapes he creates in the water grow ever larger and more complex. Soon, he’s not even dancing on the surface but _rising above it_. He leaps from one pillar of water to another and the shapes follow after him: butterflies and horned horses and a scurrying school of fish. The percussive sound of the water falling back into the pool is almost like music, every pitter-patter telling a story as his sword weaves through the air.

Jeno is so entranced by it all that he is not sure exactly when tiny orbs of light begin appearing beneath the water’s surface. They are oh so tiny and pale blue like… like _ stars _ so Jeno turns to Donghyuck whose mouth is quietly running through numerous incantations. 

So this was why Donghyuck is here. This is why they are hiding beneath the bleachers. 

Jeno is further amazed because he has never been told, never _ guessed _, that Donghyuck and Sicheng were planning something so elaborate. Their early morning ‘rehearsals’ were mainly the two other boys squatting over textbooks and old tomes, circling spells here or marking in their own alterations there. All the while, Jeno dozed off or swam laps in the pool, wondering why Donghyuck called him in on such a favor if he was never asked to contribute.

The more technical side of magic is pretty boring to Jeno so he’s never paid enough attention to their cluttered, scholarly mumblings to predict what the big night was about, but now he’s sitting here completely blown away that just the two of them put something like this together.

How strong is Sicheng’s magic? Especially when his only containment mark is the snake that loops around his wrist to bite its own tail?

The miniature orbs of light Donghyuck creates move through Sicheng’s watery constructs. Now the dragons have glowing eyes and the floating cities have twinkling lights and the wizards shoot bright beams toward the ceiling. It’s all so magnificently choreographed. Every leap, every spin, every thrust of Sicheng’s sword… The lights and the water flow together, separate and then come back together with a quiet hiss. 

The pool is a canvas and Sicheng is the most precise artist Jeno’s ever seen.

There are moments where it looks like Sicheng loses focus and falls through the air but even these are parts of the dramatic story he tells. The water curls beneath his feet and then launch him into graceful flips and spins, watery wings unfold beneath him like he’s truly flying.

Jeno whispers, “Are you kidding me?”

Donghyuck risks his concentration to shush him.

“Such magnificent form,” Jeno says.

“Shh,” Donghyuck hisses at him.

Jeno has never really hung out with Sicheng before. Sicheng is a busy third-year and he is more Renjun’s friend than Donghyuck’s, which means Jeno has only ever seen Sicheng when the third-year drops by Donghyuck and Renjun’s dorm while Jeno is over for a visit. 

Sicheng’s power and control frustrates Jeno.

His grace and talent irritates Jeno.

All Jeno can think about is the heavy ink that permanently marks his skin and the chaotic magic his body still cannot _ contain _.

His awe turns to jealousy.

Sicheng spins and draws the water up in a moving platform beneath his feet. He revolves higher and higher into the air and Sicheng stands atop it as confidently as he stands on the ground. Donghyuck’s starry lights dart into the shoots of water, hundreds of them, thousands of them like fireflies, and they spiral up through the water and then launch themselves outward towards the ceiling. They explode into millions of tiny, multi-colored particles like fireworks and the sounds they make are the tiniest, softest pops. 

It is a stunning finale. 

In the silence that follows, Donghyuck’s hand around Jeno’s wrist is the only thing that holds back his applause.

Sicheng sinks through the air on the tiniest stairsteps of water and he comes to stand in front of Yukhei who is so moved that he’s crying and Sicheng, though significantly shorter, draws Yukhei into his arms protectively and boldly declares, “I love you, Yukhei. I love you,” over and over and it takes a while for Jeno to realize that he is crying too and he clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from sobbing aloud and giving away his presence.

When the couple leaves, it’s as if they had never been there. The twinkling lights are gone. The pool is still. And Jeno’s still sitting cross-legged beneath the bleachers with his hand over his mouth.

Donghyuck is on his phone playing a music game. His fingers fly across his phone screen and his expression is bored as if he has not just shown his genius.

“The two of you did all of that?” Jeno asks and his voice kind of _ boom boom booms _ around the room but he doesn’t care because Sicheng and Yukhei are gone now.

“It was Sicheng’s idea. He came to Renjun and Renjun came to me. I figured I may as well, as I had nothing else to do.” Donghyuck taps away at his rhythm game and Jeno wonders how his friend can sit there and be so calm after running through a series of such complicated spells. He isn’t even breathless from the chanting!

“He has such amazing control,” Jeno wipes the salt trails off of his face. “Did you see him at the end? His clothes weren’t even wet. Jungwoo--” Jeno laughs. “Jungwoo can’t do that.”

“Jungwoo can’t melt ice if he took it outside,” Donghyuck quips, not breaking his run’s 200+ combo. 

Water magic is Jungwoo’s affinity but the poor boy has less of a handle on his magic than Jeno and that is _ saying something _. That doesn’t stop Jungwoo from trying, though, and Jeno can’t decide if such sticktoitiveness is a good thing or a bad thing, a motivating thing or a rather pathetic thing. 

Donghyuck says, “It’s a real shame that Sicheng struggles in technical exams. He’d be top of his class for sure.”

“He struggles?” Jeno’s eyes go wide because _ how in the hell _?

“If school was all about talent, he’d be set, but our wonderful country’s education system revolves almost strictly around written tests.”

Jeno frowns because it sounds awful but then he smiles a little because his and Donghyuck’s knees are touching and he wonders if he could possibly pull off something as amazing as what Sicheng did for Donghyuck. “So that’s why Renjun came to you?” Jeno puts two and two together in his head. “Because you’re great at written stuff?” He remembers all of the books Donghyuck and Sicheng had flipped through. He remembers admiring Donghyuck’s steady and patient hand as it circled spells or was raised to Donghyuck’s mouth so he could lick a finger to more easily turn the thin grimoire pages.

“Actually, I think it was more because Renjun’s smart enough to pair up two sorcerers with compatible magic. Water and stars go together like plants and light, like illusions and darkness, like lightning and sound.” Donghyuck exits out of his game, the frantic piano music coming to a sudden halt, and he stares up at Jeno with an eyebrow raised. “Life is about compatibility. If it was actually about exam grades, everyone would be asking me for favors.”

“You did a good thing, Donghyuck,” Jeno says. “You made a lot of people very happy today.” He thinks back to Sicheng smiling because he was so in love with Yukhei who was smiling because he was so in love with Sicheng. Jeno smiles because he’s so in love with Donghyuck. “I’ve been meaning to tell you--”

“Let’s not get sappy.” Donghyuck rises to his feet and nearly bangs his head on the underside of the bleachers. “Just be relieved I talked Sicheng out of doing something like this _ publicly _. It took me half a morning to get him to do this at the pool at night rather than in the fountain in the courtyard before morning classes.”

Jeno grins. “What? You don’t like it when people other than you show off?”

“You know me so well,” Donghyuck says without hesitation and his laugh is gentle. Perhaps he means it.

Jeno stands and, because he is taller, he actually does bang his head on the underside of the bleachers. “Shit!”

Donghyuck’s laugh turns wild and there is a 100% chance that he will not let Jeno live it down for a while


	3. Lee Jeno And The Attack Of 80's Punk Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a baked goods sale.

July, 2019

It doesn’t take much of a genius to see that Renjun and Donghyuck are roommates, Jeno realizes. They sort of behave like each other. Perhaps they were assigned the same room because their personalities are so similar. The students _did_ have to take that borderline invasive roommate assignment survey at the start of the quarter. Jeno worries that the school administration board think he and Jaemin are _ similar _.

Wow. Just the thought brings down his mood quite a bit.

“You know,” Renjun begins, “you don’t need to be here.”

“It’s alright,” Jeno says. “I want to help. It’s no bother.”

“I don’t think you understood me. You don’t need to be _ here _.” Renjun straightens the corner of the lacy cloth draped over the table.

“Renjun, really. I don’t mind giving you guys a hand.”

“That’s the thing. You’re not helping,” Renjun snaps. “You’re just standing there.” And Jeno kind of is. “Actually, I would prefer it if you, I don’t know, get out of the way.” Renjun has learned that trick from Donghyuck. Even the ‘I’m closing my eyes and hoping that when I open them you’re gone’ thing.

  
  
Jeno insists, “Please, I can do things.”

  
  
“We’ve got it from here. Plus, you’d really help by moving thirty steps that way,” Renjun points in the general direction of the student lounge’s door and Jeno knows an exit when he’s shown one.

  
  
“Fine,” the boy relents and steps over the boxes stacked high with containers of cupcakes and cake slices and cookies and Jeno’s slightly mad because Renjun didn’t even offer him any of the sweets! He’d banked on it. Skipped his after-breakfast snack and everything. Feasting on cakes was to be the highlight of his afternoon, but alas.

  
“See ya, Jeno.” Jisung, the first year, mumbles through his words. He mumbles everything. It’s always hard to hear him.

  
  
“Yeah, see you,” Renjun pipes up loudly. “Thanks for carrying that _one_ box, Jeno. I don’t regret asking you for your assistance at all.”

  
  
“No problem.” Jeno steps over the last of the boxes in his way and then turns to glance at Renjun. He’s small and waifish like Donghyuck, and just as smart, but where Donghyuck is a clear night sky, Renjun is a storm over the sea. It scares Jeno a little how real of a possibility it is that on his first day of school, he may have fallen for Renjun instead of Donghyuck if he’d spotted the boy first. They were both his type. Honest to a fault. Almost brutally. See, if this were Donghyuck he was speaking to right now, he would realize Jeno is still standing there and would say-

  
  
“You’re gonna scare away all of our customers with your ungainliness.”

  
  
Close enough.

Jisung gives Jeno a tiny little wave and Jeno returns it but is interrupted by Renjun’s rather emphatic shooing.

  
  
Jeno doesn’t really know a lot about Renjun because, as similar as he and Donghyuck are, they are vastly different. Renjun likes extracurricular activities and he volunteers around the campus and wears his student ambassador badge with pride. Donghyuck, by stark contrast, spends his afternoons lounging on the nearest horizontal surface. Besides, Jeno reasons, Donghyuck is actually willing to break a few school rules with him and that’s kind of his only requirement for a crush. He’s very particular.

  
  
The summer day outside is not as breezy as it needs to be and Jeno’s only out beneath the sun a minute and a half when he feels sweat gather beneath his pits. He’s bored. Really bored. Helping Renjun with the bake sale was supposed to eat up his entire afternoon. He did not plan to be dismissed so quickly. So readily. Then again, his only goal was free snacks. Earlier that morning, sleepy-eyed Jisung had said, in his short-sentenced way, that he and Renjun had been in the school’s kitchen literally all night baking. “I’m tired,” were his exact words, speckles of flour still caught in his wild hair.

  
  
“You okay, Jeno,” comes a squeaky-ish voice from behind him, “you’re kinda staring at the bench instead of sitting on it.”

  
  
“I’m just thinking,” Jeno turns and Mark is standing there. A third year so quiet and codependent and soft-spoken that Jeno often forgets that he’s the younger of the two.

  
  
Mark pushes his thick, rectangular glasses further up his tiny nose and makes the slightest of faces up at Jeno. “Thinking about how hot a metal bench is gonna be on a sweltering day like this?”

  
  
“Yeah, basically,” Jeno lies. What he is actually thinking about is his first day of school a year and a half ago, the rainy morning he first encounters Renjun and Donghyuck. Jeno thinks about how he could barely get down the dormitory hallway with all of their boxes blocking the path. He remembers how he’d started pushing their stuff out of his way and kicking things, and how it was Donghyuck who forcefully volunteered him to help them move their stuff into their room since he was already _moving their stuff_.

  
  
Renjun had been a split-second from snapping at Jeno and also perhaps snapping his fingers in half, according to Donghyuck, and Jeno recalls brushing past Donghyuck on the way inside the room and feeling a literal spark pass between them strong enough to make them both drop their boxes.

  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t sit on the bench, if it takes you this long to decide,” Mark says and Jeno knows he’s teasing. His lips are curled up in a smile and his narrow fingers twist and fidget in his dark hair.

  
  
“Renjun’s having a bake sale,” Jeno blurts out. “As a way to raise money for the student ambassadors program. I was wondering if you wanted something. I’ll buy.”

  
  
Mark’s eyes widen. “Uhh, yeah, sure, why not?” So they walk back to the student lounge, which has filled considerably in the minutes the two of them were outside. Apparently, that’s how quickly word spreads about sweets. 

There’s actually quite a bit of a line and Jeno hates that he has to sit still because whenever he sits still, his thoughts spin up like a cyclone in his head. It’s almost panic-inducing. “You ever meet someone that changes your life forever?” Jeno says, and he looks Mark right in the eyes to let his senior know he’s serious.

  
  
After a long moment, Mark says, “I used to not believe in that stuff, but… I think I did meet them.”

  
  
Jeno bites his lip. That spark between him and Donghyuck... He had thought it had been instant mutual attraction or something silly but Donghyuck had been the one to say it had been an actual bolt of electricity, stronger than static. A tiny little fear in the back of his head makes him wonder... If Renjun had touched him first then, to clobber him or break his fingers or whatever, would he have felt a spark, then, too? “Do you ever think about how great it is that your life lined up perfectly for you to meet that special person?”

  
  
“Quite often, actually,” Mark stops messing with his hair and he looks up at Jeno with a brand new seriousness in his eyes but Jeno’s not looking at him.

  
  
Jeno makes eye contact with Renjun, who rolls his eyes at him and looks away in disgust. “It’s all I can think about today,” Jeno says. “That if things had gone even slightly different that day, I wouldn’t be who I am now.” _It could have been Renjun,_ Jeno thinks. He could have been crushing on Renjun all this time. Renjun’s cute too, with his nice teeth and decently-groomed eyebrows and how great he looks in dress pants. But Jeno’s really glad it was Donghyuck who got inside his head and heart first. Liking Donghyuck just feels right. It feels like wishing on a star.

  
  
“Did Jaemin slip something into your water bottle again? What’s this all about,” Mark wonders. He wants Jeno to look at him, at least, so he doesn’t have to talk to the side of Jeno’s head. So he doesn’t have to feel like he is being ignored.

  
  
“Nothing, nothing, I’m just thinking aloud.” Jeno waves a hand dismissively. 

Mark is suddenly glad Jeno is not looking at him because now he can frown and blush with embarrassment without being seen. “I thought you were confessing,” he says with a chuckle.

  
  
“Oh, I could never do that,” Jeno spots Donghyuck coming into the student lounge from the far side of the building. Sicheng and Yukhei are with him. Or, more accurately, Donghyuck is with Sicheng and Yukhei because he is so awkwardly and so obviously third-wheeling it. “I don’t have the guts to tell him.”

Mark’s frown deepens. He whispers, “I thought you were confessing to _ me _.”

“Hmm?” Jeno asks, still looking across the room. “Did you say something?”

  
  
“No, just...” Mark’s words falter. He does not have to follow Jeno’s gaze to know who the guy is staring at. “Stars are light years away, you know. Unreachable.”

  
  
Jeno doesn’t get it. He’s not particularly paying attention.

  
Mark knows Jeno is not really listening to him, so he keeps on. “The sun’s a lot closer.” His voice is so tiny. “The sun is a star, too.”

  
  
The two of them reach the front of the bake sale line. Jeno is still watching Donghyuck and Sicheng and Yukhei as they sit at a table on the far side of the room. Mark is still watching Jeno. Renjun watches one of them and then the other before loudly snorting. “Hurry it up!”

  
  
Jeno startles. He turns to Renjun. “Oh yeah, sorry.” He points to a tray of cookies. “Two of those.” Then a different tray of cookies. “One of those.” A different tray. “Three of these guys.” He considers the cakes (coconut, lemon, or strawberry) and decides against them. Jeno points to a container of brightly-decorated cupcakes. “And one of those bad boys. Mark, what do you want?”

  
  
Mark wordlessly motions to the gingerbread cookies.

  
  
Jisung, just as wordlessly, sweeps their chosen treats into a tiny plastic container with a gloved hand while Renjun opens the money box and recites the total before calling Jeno a pig.

  
  
“I’ve got a big stomach,” Jeno defends himself and fishes in his pocket for his wallet. He counts out the correct number of bills and holds them out with his left hand. Renjun attempts to reach for it, but Jeno’s got an idea in his head. A dangerous one. He pulls back his left hand and clutches Renjun’s outstretched hand with his right.

  
  
They hold hands for a long, quiet moment. Quiet because Jisung and Mark are usually quiet but it is also quiet because Renjun stands there stunned because he can never get used to Jeno’s handsy tendencies.

  
  
There is no electricity that jumps between Renjun and Jeno. There is no spark, magical or otherwise, although Jeno hates himself for wishing for one.

  
  
“Uh uh. You are _not_ paying for all of this with a handshake. We’re not that good of friends. Give me the money.” Renjun wriggles his hand free of Jeno’s grip and snatches the bills out of his other hand too fast for Jeno to react. “Don’t play games with me.”

  
  
Jisung says, in his short-sentenced way, that windows of opportunity only remain open for so long and that if Jeno wants Renjun, he should have started up that road long before now and that if he wants Donghyuck, he may be dangerously close to missing that chance, too. “Bye,” are Jisung’s exact words.

  
  
Mark doesn’t say much, he just accepts his gingerbread cookie and leaves. 

Jeno crosses the student lounge with his new parcel and Donghyuck spots him approaching. His stoic face melts into a smile. He gets up from the table, leaving Sicheng and Yukhei without them noticing his absence, and walks right up to Jeno. He presses a finger against the side of the clear container. “That one. Now.” His smile is so effervescent, his face is so cheery, the most excited he ever looks, so Jeno grins and opens the container to lift the cupcake out.

  
  
“You ever meet someone that changes your life forever,” Jeno asks as he holds the cupcake out to Donghyuck.

  
  
“Can’t say that I have,” Donghyuck answers, and makes a grab for the cupcake.

  
  
Their fingers touch. There’s a spark. Bright blue. The _pop_ of it in the air is loud enough to attract the attention of the students seated at the tables near them. Both boys shout in surprise and the cupcake falls to the tile floor. The wrapper is singed completely black on the underside.

  
  
“Control yourself, Jeno,” Donghyuck chastises. He stares down at the cupcake like it is a dear friend he has to say goodbye to. “I’m practically a walking lightning rod with all of these things on.” He dips down to scoop up the slightly smoking cupcake and the punk-spike bracelets around his wrists jangle as metal brushes against metal. 

  
Lightning has a tendency to jump towards metal.

  
  
Jeno tries really hard to remember if Donghyuck was wearing those bracelets the day they met.


	4. Lee Jeno And The 'Special Interest' Magazine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a fist fight.

November 2018

Donghyuck says mean things because it is his weird way of being affectionate.

  
  
Renjun says mean things because he is trying to be more like Donghyuck.

  
  
Jaemin says mean things because… he’s just mean and Jeno is certain the guy was never hugged as a child.

  
  
“What is wrong with you,” Jeno howls. It’s late at night, past midnight, but he doesn’t care who hears his screaming. “Do you really think I would touch your stuff?”

  
  
“Well, it was here when I left and now it’s not so who else would take it?” Jaemin snaps back. He’d be handsome if his lips weren’t always pulled back in a snarl, if his eyebrows weren’t always furrowed. He always looks like he’s a second away from hurting someone, and not with his words or with his fists, but with something serious like his magic. When he is loud and angry like this, Jeno can’t help but feel uneasy even though he is the one who dresses like he is in a 50s greaser gang. 

Jeno trusts Jaemin in the way one trusts a stray dog to bite your neighbor but not you.

  
  
In other words, he doesn’t trust Jaemin at all.

“Maybe one of your friends took it while they were over,” Jeno suggests.

“I don’t have any friends,” Jaemin yells.

  
  
Well… “What the hell am I gonna do with your spell ingredients, Jaemin? We don’t have the same affinity. What works for you won’t work for me. I don’t even know what half of the junk over there _is_.” He waves a hand in the direction of all the mason jars, plant food bags and wooden crates Jaemin has on the desk and bookshelf on his side of the room. _His side of the room_, because Jeno and Jaemin have divided their dorm right down the middle using masking tape like middle schoolers. 

“Can’t you see? All of the important things are missing!” Jaemin exhales through his nose and points at the spot on the floor to the right of where he stands. Textbooks, new and old, are arranged in a half-circle on the hardwood floor. Pressed flowers sit like bookmarks between the pages of the books. Bowls of leaves that are still bright green despite the fact that it’s winter and that they have been plucked from trees months ago sit next to glasses filled with berries and seeds and raw honey. “Just give it back!”

  
  
To Jeno, the things on the floor are just a collection of random things from outside. He can’t tell if something is actually missing or not. “Ugh, I should have stayed in Donghyuck’s room.” Jeno pinches the bridge of his nose. Not even twenty seconds ago, he'd unlocked the dorm door only to immediately shriek upon spotting Jaemin standing in the middle of the room in the dark, waiting for him with his barbed accusations. “In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t even been in here half the night.”

  
“I know you don’t like me,” Jaemin says, “so I know you’re doing this to piss me off. Taking my shit and all of that.”

  
  
“I do everything I can to not even be in the same room with you. Why would I go out of my way to make you mad at me?” Jeno steps towards his bed and flops on top of it. He wants to be asleep. Quarterly exams are approaching (like he has been studying for them anyway.)

  
  
“You’re lying. I know it,” Jaemin crosses the room, puts a fist on Jeno’s mattress and leans closer. “Where’d you put my stuff? Tell me or you’ll wake up with your sheets infested with insects.”

  
  
“Chill out. I don’t know where your stuff is. Didn’t I just tell you? I wasn’t even here half the evening. I was out.” And that is the truth. Jeno had been in Donghyuck and Renjun’s dorm. It hadn’t even been a party or anything. He was just in there bored out of his mind while Renjun, the student ambassador, walked the two new exchange students through the last few pages of the student handbook. The more charismatic of the transfer students was Sicheng, while the scary-looking but scared-looking one was Yukhei. Jeno had gone to the room to see Donghyuck, had waited around for him for nearly three hours, but the star mage hadn’t shown up until right after curfew but, by then, Jeno was already being kicked out of the room by Renjun, even though Sicheng and Yukhei seemed to be allowed to stay.

  
  
“I bet you left the door unlocked,” Jaemin presses, then leans even further onto the mattress. Jeno gets a little itch on his leg and he swats at it with a hand. He hopes it is not the start of Jaemin’s insect infestation. “I bet someone came in and stole it and it is all your fault.”

  
  
“I didn’t take your twigs and leaves and rocks!” Jeno doesn’t know what comes over him, he just lunges at his roommate. He takes Jaemin and the majority of his bed sheets to the floor with him.

  
  
They fight.

  
  
Jeno’s bigger and should be stronger but Jaemin fights dirty, using his teeth and his fingernails and going for Jeno’s ears, his eyes, his groin. Jeno grabs Jaemin by the collar of his shirt and throws him but Jaemin regains his balance and drives his head into Jeno’s gut, knocks him backwards. His head nearly collides with the dresser.

  
  
Jeno’s knee connects with the side of Jaemin’s head but then there’s a hand in his hair, yanking. He howls and rolls sideways, out of breath.

  
  
Jaemin scrambles across the hardwood floor. A trickle of blood oozes from his right nostril.

  
  
“Since you like to mess with my things, I’ll mess with yours,” Jaemin huffs. He stands on shaky feet and makes a beeline to the heavy trunk at the foot of Jeno’s bed. There’s a porn magazine in there, right on top, a photo of a man in nothing but a jockstrap bent over the armrest of a couch on the cover.

  
  
But more importantly than that, there are knives in that trunk. Knives of bone and brass and metal and carved wood. There’s battered tin bowls and chipped porcelain cups. There’s a collection of flat rocks with runic symbols engraved on them. There’s handwoven ropes with paper charms interwoven in them. Plastic straps used as tourniquets.

  
  
Blood magic stuff. Banned stuff.

  
  
Stuff that can get Jeno expelled. Stuff that’s not exactly hidden from view by a pair of smelly shoes.

  
  
Jeno reminds himself that Jaemin is _nosy_. Jaemin has probably already ignored the masking tape that divides their room and gone through all of Jeno’s things. Jeno just gets this _feeling_. Jaemin ignores everything else on this side of the room but goes straight for the trunk as if the earth mage already knows what’s inside.

  
  
“Don’t you dare.” Jeno coils into a crouch and springs towards Jaemin’s ankles.

  
  
Jaemin yelps, tries to kick out. His heel finds Jeno’s chin. “Doesn’t feel so good, huh, to have your stuff messed with, huh? Now you know how I feel.” Jaemin kicks him again, the side of his foot finding Jeno’s bare shoulder. It sends a big enough jolt of pain through him that he loses his grip on Jaemin for a second, but it’s all the boy needs to slip out of his grasp.

  
  
“I didn’t take your stuff,” Jeno reaches up, grabs the first thing he gets his hands on. It’s the back of Jaemin’s pajama pants. He doesn’t care. He pulls. The thick cotton slides right off Jaemin’s hips, exposes his bare bottom, and he’s caught off-guard enough to stop walking. Jeno jumps to his feet, grabs his roommate by the waist and pulls him away from the trunk with all of his might. Jaemin’s side hits the dresser. He crumples to the floor like a rag doll. Jeno screeches, “I hate you but I don’t hate you enough to mess with your magic.” There's a double meaning in it. He’s telling the truth but he is also warning Jaemin not to touch his blood magic stuff again.

  
  
“Remember the last time you lied to me? And the time before that? And the time-” Jaemin stands up. “You always lie.” His nasty voice will always be nasty no matter how he tries to soften it and, even in the almost-dark room, Jeno sees the boy clench his fist, body tensing like he’s gonna swing.

  
  
Jeno tackles him.

  
  
Hard.

  
  
They crash over Jaemin’s bed and clear to the wood flooring on the other side of it, landing in a tangle of limbs.

  
  
Jaemin struggles. His teeth find Jeno’s ear again, dig in and try to _pull_ but Jeno is fed up - he has had it up to here - so he rears back and punches Jaemin in the chest. The boy wheezes and falls backward to the floor. Then he knees Jeno in the groin and laughs as the boy goes down next to him before he practically jumps on top of him, hands balling into the front of Jeno’s ragged band t-shirt. Jaemin manages one wild punch across Jeno’s face.

  
  
Jeno’s out of it for a second or two but comes to his senses and throws his hands up. He clutches at Jaemin’s face. His fingers find purchase up Jaemin’s nose and in his mouth and dangerously close to his eye. “I’m not lying to you. Not now,” Jeno shakes Jaemin’s head hard. He screams at the top of his lungs, “I can’t lie when I say I hate your guts!” Jeno feels his magic slip past his containment marks even though he does not speak an incantation.

  
  
Blue-white electricity sparks across his knuckles. _Zip-zip-crackle-crackle. Pop!_

  
  
Both Jeno and Jaemin get very still and very quiet in the wreck of the room.

  
  
Jeno is scared because he nearly lost control of his magic _again_. Jaemin is scared because if Jeno had lost any more of that control, he’d probably be dead or at least badly burned and hurt.

  
  
The room fills with the ozone-heavy stench of a thunderstorm before either boy thinks to move.

  
  
Jaemin pulls Jeno’s hands off of his face, then quickly stands, pulling his pants back up.

  
  
Jeno asks, “What got taken from you that you can’t go outside and get some more?” He gets to his feet. His entire body is sore. His ears ring. The skin of his knuckles is red and already swells with irritation from the burn of the lightning.

  
  
When Jaemin turns to look at Jeno, there’s a real fear in his eyes. Real terror. But Jeno can’t tell if such fear is due to the lightning or because of Jaemin’s missing, important, dangerous ingredients. Unfortunately, Jaemin doesn’t answer Jeno’s question, he just says he’s going to bed and then he goes to bed, tiny bruises blossoming on his face where Jeno’s hands connected.

  
  
Jeno doesn’t go to bed. He just waits until Jaemin’s snoring, then he goes to his trunk, counts the knives and runes and bowls to make sure they are all still there, then he moves everything to the bottom drawer of his dresser, beneath his underwear and socks and the lizard-decorated beach towel he’s had since he was a kid.

  
  
The porn magazine stays in the trunk, but he flips it over so that the back cover with an advertisement for a luxury watch is on top.


	5. Lee Jeno And The Mysterious Language Of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a kissing game.

December 2018

  
The power goes out right after midnight. No ceremony. No stuttering. Just one big whoosh as everything cuts off. The roar of the wind outside is the only noise for quite some time.

  
  
A huge winter storm has come barreling through. The weather forecasters, a wind mage and a water mage, have been warning people in the city to prepare for the worst all weekend.

  
  
“Why can’t they just stop it?” Jeno had seriously asked when the storm was first announced last Wednesday. “Why can’t they team up and knock it out before it reaches us?” He and his friends are in one of the smaller student lounges in the history building, watching the news where a well-respected ice mage was using her rare affinity to basically tell them ‘being cold is bad, staying warm is good.’ “I mean, surely there’s enough magical power in the city to stop a simple blizzard.”

  
  
Chenle and Donghyuck share a look. They raise their eyebrows and crinkle their noses at each other. Jeno looks from one boy to the other, unable to decipher this silent language they share.

  
  
“You elemental mages are all the same,” Donghyuck huffs, even though he is facing Chenle.

  
  
“Think you can battle nature just because you can control one tiny part of it,” Chenle says, running a finger through his bright bright bright orange hair.

  
  
“There are consequences for fighting nature. Repercussions,” Donghyuck continues.

  
  
“Stopping that storm now will just make a bigger one show up somewhere else.”

“The butterfly effect.”

  
  
Chenle sucks on his teeth to make a disapproving noise. “The sudden change in temperature alone could cause all sorts of atmospheric disruptions. The meteorological impact itself will be unpredictable. I mean, the climate is already tanking.”

  
  
“I mean, you elementalists think you’re godlike just because you can move a little air.”

  
  
“Entitled assholes.”

  
  
Donghyuck snorts. “Not every problem can be solved with a spell, Jeno. Sometimes you just have to let shit slide.”

  
  
“Really, it’s just common sense.”

  
  
“That’s a trait so many people lack.”

  
  
Then Chenle turns to Jeno, as if he suddenly remembers his original question. “Fighting a blizzard wouldn’t be worth the hassle. It would be like putting alcohol on a paper cut. It’s gonna hurt more than help.”

  
  
_That_ was something Jeno could understand. “So... it would be a bad thing?”

  
  
Chenle and Donghyuck look at each other again before simultaneously turning back to Jeno and saying, “Duh!”

  
  
Jeno sighs. “So why didn’t you guys just say that instead of all of the other stuff?”

  
  
Chenle sighs wearily. “This is your friend?” He tugs the collar of his sweater up over his mouth as if to keep himself from saying anything else. 

Donghyuck leans over the table to place a rather condescending hand on Jeno’s forearm. “You elemental mages are all the same,” he repeats his assessment from earlier. Then he shakes his head before focusing on the television again where the weather report has transitioned to traffic news.

  
  
Yet even after being so openly insulted, Jeno can’t help but notice that Donghyuck keeps his small, warm hand on his forearm until well after the commercial break.

  
  
That was all Wednesday. Now it is terribly early on a Monday and Jeno lies in bed in the dark of his dorm. As he grows cold in the wintry chill, he wonders if he at least should have gone to the supermarket and bought a couple packs of ramen while he was out earlier that morning.

  
  
Curfew in the dorms is at a strict, ridiculously early 9PM but this doesn’t stop students from slipping out in the hall to gather in their friends’ rooms while the storm rages outside. Jeno checks the time on his phone. It is 3AM. He listens to his classmates’ tip-toeing and hushed giggles out in the hall and then, minutes later, sees the flashlights of prefects dance under the crack of the door, too little and too late. It goes on like this for about an hour.

  
  
Jeno realizes that he will not fall asleep like this and decides that he can’t lay in bed when there is illicit fun to be had. They’ll all hear about it in the morning, for sure. The whole student body will have to sit in an assembly while the headmistress goes on about how disrespecting curfew causes safety issues in the possible event of an emergency. But it’s a _blizzard_. The power outage seems like more of a safety issue than anything else. Or at least this is what Jeno thinks.

  
  
The wind is loud outside and it rattles the glass window panes.

  
  
Jaemin’s a real heavy sleeper so Jeno doesn’t bother trying to be sneaky or quiet as he slips a leather jacket over his stretched-out tank top, squeezes his legs into a pair of leather pants and pulls on a pair of old, highlighter green Converses. He waits by his dorm door. Three minutes pass. Four. Five. Then he hears a heavy set of footsteps, sees the beam of a flashlight. It’s a prefect. Jeno waits another twenty seconds and then darts out into the hall. He runs in the opposite direction he saw the flashlight move, heads around the corner, around another corner, and down to the end of the hall where Donghyuck and Renjun’s dorm room is.

  
  
He raps his knuckles on the door but it is not closed all the way so it opens from his weight.

  
  
There’s already a small group of students inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor in a circle, chatting quietly and sipping canned sodas. Or maybe beer. Jeno can’t tell in the near-dark.

  
  
“We should tell scary stories,” the voice is unmistakably Yangyang’s. He has a really exaggerated, flourishing accent. His syllables slur together like a song.

  
  
“We should play Truth Or Dare,” this voice is Mark’s. Bright white just like his magic. Bright white just like the tiny glowing orb he’s fabricated in the air above his head. It is as warm as candlelight and casts soft and flickering shadows over everyone’s faces.

  
  
“Spin The Bottle, maybe?” Yukhei’s voice is full of daring and boldness. 

“With no girls,” asks Yangyang.

“With no girls,” Yukhei confirms. He stares at his fellow study abroad kid Sicheng and waits for the shorter, older boy to look at him, but Sicheng sits completely still, a little wide-eyed and overwhelmed. He clearly struggles to keep up with the rapid-fire, conversational Korean around him.

  
  
“What are we, twelve?” Jeno says as he steps further into the room. Everyone’s faces swing upwards towards him as they all acknowledge his presence in the room. “I did not just sneak out of my dorm to peck you fools on the cheek.”

  
  
Mark scoots over, making room for Jeno in the lopsided circle. 

Jeno folds his long body between Mark and Sicheng. “We better do something exciting if we’re going to get chewed out in the morning assembly anyway.”

“I’m all for Truth Or Dare, actually,” Mark repeats and he relaxes and lets his knee press into Jeno’s thigh.

  
  
“Are we actually debating over what dumb game to play?” Jeno wonders. He doesn’t know why he’s cranky.

  
  
“It’s not dumb,” Yangyang says from between Donghyuck and Renjun. “There’s no power so there’s not much else to do.”

  
  
“Who would have thought not having wifi for an hour and a half would reduce us to primal savages,” Renjun gripes.

  
  
And now that Jeno sits and thinks about it, he understands why everything grates on his nerves. It’s only been a few months since he discovered his affinity for lightning magic, but he has already gotten used to the hum of it around him. Power usually insulates him. In the ceiling and in the walls. Every wire and cord white-hot with comforting warmth. Jeno can usually nudge his magic a little bit to spark some lightning off his fingertips but the power is out _completely_ and he’s never felt so... hollowed out.

  
  
Perhaps Donghyuck notices Jeno’s predicament as well, because when Jeno looks up, the star mage is already watching him warily as if half-expecting a violent outburst. Jeno tries to do what Renjun and Chenle seem to be able to do with him effortlessly. That is, talk silently. He puts his thoughts into the dark brown of his eyes and tries to _communicate_, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to understand him. He turns away.

  
  
Maybe it’s because he’s an elemental mage.

  
  
“I vote for Spin The Bottle,” Sicheng says, and the other six people in the circle turn to him because they hadn’t expected him to speak. Especially with such fluent, confident syllables. Renjun elbows him, then speaks to him in rhythmic Mandarin, probably to ask for confirmation but Sicheng repeats his vote, louder, bolder: “Let’s play Spin The Bottle.”

  
  
“Yeah, Spin The Bottle,” Yukhei says excitedly. “Thank you, friends.” He is absolutely delighted because now Sicheng is paying attention to him. Him, instead of Yangyang’s easy smile or Mark’s shy, barely-visible dimples.

  
  
“Spin The Bottle,” Donghyuck says. “Sure why not? I’ve already had my gay awakening.” 

Jeno’s a little shocked by the admission and he looks over at Donghyuck but Donghyuck has his head thrown back, chugging the last of the unidentified beverage in his can. When he finishes, he places it on the floor in the middle of the circle and, just like that, they are playing Spin The Bottle.

  
  
First, Donghyuck kisses Yukhei across the circle. It’s with a wet sounding noise and Donghyuck runs his fingers through Yukhei’s long, silky hair.

  
  
Then Yukhei kisses Yangyang, but it’s not much of a kiss since they are both laughing so hard and Yangyang pulls back to make retching noises whenever Yukhei pushes forward.

  
  
Yangyang spins the can next and gets Jeno, but when the two of them lean across the circle towards each other, they both wince as their magic unexpectedly flares up between them. It’s a strong magnetic force, like being punched or shoved, and it repels their faces apart, much to Yangyang’s relief. Jeno gets dizzy, slumps sideways and bumps his forehead against Donghyuck’s bony, propped-up knee.

  
  
“I guess you’re the same polarity,” Donghyuck muses and then pushes Jeno’s head away.

  
  
Yangyang laughs it off. “My prayers were answered.”

  
  
Jeno sits back in his spot in the circle, partially relieved. “There aren’t too many other lightning mages on campus.” He runs a hand through his hair. He’s trying really hard to grow it out into a mullet. “I guess this makes you negative as well?”

  
  
Yangyang puts on this too-wide, too-many-teeth smile to mask the bite of his words. “Clearly. I mean, it’s _common_, Jeno. Less than 5% of all lightning strikes have a positive charge.”

Jeno fumes. On any other day, Yangyang would act like he can’t understand basic sentences.

  
  
There’s an awkward silence before Donghyuck suggests that Yangyang spins again, so he does and gets Sicheng and they lean over Renjun to kiss. Or rather, brush their lips against each other. It could barely be considered a_ peck_ but there’s a hum in the air as their magics coalesce. Water and lightning. Pale blue light dances across their skin as one magic attempts to conduct the other. Yukhei watches the exchange with envy in his narrowed eyes.

  
  
Sicheng spins the can next and gets Donghyuck so then it’s Jeno’s turn to watch the smacking together of lips with a furrowed, jealous brow. When the two of them part, Jeno puffs up his chest and says, “You call that a kiss? What’s wrong with you guys?” But he’s looking around the whole circle, unimpressed. “Come on. If we were gonna be awkward like this, why do it at all?”

  
  
Donghyuck smirks and Jeno’s glad that he’s onboard. “So... step our game up is what you’re saying, Jeno?”

  
Jeno does not know why he says it, but-- “Yeah. Everything from here on out has a five second minimum.”

  
  
There’s some head nodding and grunts of agreement around the circle so everyone takes that as a sign to keep going. Donghyuck dramatically spins the can and Jeno’s heart pounds faster as the can slows and wobbles towards him. The end with the open cap turns almost directly at him and Jeno feels excitement bubble beneath his skin because now he gets to _kiss Donghyuck_, but the can rolls to the side a bit more and faces Mark next to him.

  
  
Mark and Donghyuck hesitate but then the two of them lean over Yukhei and kiss each other a little noisily. Donghyuck’s hand goes to Mark’s curly hair, his fingers loop down towards Mark’s neck, but then the five seconds pass and they spring away from each other as if they both had been counting the time down in their heads. The light above Mark’s head dims as his concentration wanes. He gingerly touches his kissed-red lips before looking up Jeno, but Jeno doesn’t notice because he’s looking at Donghyuck who seems completely pleased with himself.

  
  
There’s a pang in Jeno’s heart then. Disappointment. Jealousy. _Something_. He feels empty already due to the lack of electricity around him but now all he feels is a void. All he wants is to spin the can and get Donghyuck. All he wants is for Donghyuck to lean forward and kiss him, run those fingers through _his_ hair.

  
  
Jeno is a little angry. Angry that lightning magic seems so _incompatible_ with everything else.

  
  
“Hey, Mark. Old buddy, old pal. The light,” Renjun states. “The light.”

  
  
“What? Oh.” Mark looks away from Jeno, takes a moment to center himself and then chants a quick, new incantation. The light above him brightens, wavering to and fro like a blazing ball of sparkling fire.

  
  
“It’s your turn to spin,” Renjun presses.

  
  
“I know. Jeez,” Mark sighs and the light steadies a bit. He spins and it comes close to stopping on Jeno but ends up pointing to Sicheng. The disappointment is clear on his face and the kiss is obviously dull and withering.

  
  
Jeno folds his arms over his chest. “We shouldn’t have played this.” Everyone had seemed so ready and willing to be in on it a few minutes ago but even with all of the poor displays of kissing, Jeno is upset because he is the only one in the circle who hasn’t been kissed yet.

  
  
“Stop whining,” Donghyuck snaps, but it is easy for him to say because he’s kissed both Yukhei and Mark. In other words, not Jeno.

  
  
Sicheng spins and gets Yukhei and the relief in the air is palpable, like everyone gathered in the room has been quietly holding their breaths until then. The two new kids lean towards each other, the taller one with shaggy rockstar hair and wiry muscles, the shorter one with an expertly trimmed coif and a trust fund baby cardigan. The air in the room gets heavy. Earth and water press close. Although nothing physically changes between them, Jeno swears he can feel their mutual attraction on his skin like oppressive humidity.

  
  
Yukhei, who is so very like flowers and sunshine. Sicheng, who moves with the grace and poise of an ancient river.

  
  
Right then at that moment, not even Donghyuck with his tarot cards could have predicted how deeply those two mages would have fallen in love with each other, but months from now, everyone would say how obvious it was. They were just so compatible. Their magic was so… complimentary.

  
  
But right then, Jeno is no longer mad that he can’t kiss Donghyuck. He is mad that Sicheng and Yukhei have been kissing each other for a long, long while now. “Ok, get a room,” he complains.

  
  
“You’re the one who wanted steamier kisses,” Yangyang points out.

_Yeah, but only between me and Donghyuck_, he thinks. “Yeah, but not if you’re gonna start rutting against each other’s legs,” he says aloud.

  
  
So Sicheng and Yukhei pull apart and they are both grinning from ear to ear and Jeno’s sick of it but Donghyuck is looking at Mark like he wants the two of them to be next.

  
  
His cheeks flushed and freckled, Yukhei spins the can and gets Renjun. The kiss is hasty and unsure, neither of them properly committing until Renjun tries some tongue but then the five seconds are up and Yukhei is leaning back.

  
  
“You guys call that a kiss?” Donghyuck’s got a look in his eye. It’s a tad dangerous. “What was that?” 

  
  
“This is awkward,” Mark speaks up. The light above his head dims a second time. “We’re friends. We’re classmates.”

“We’re all dudes,” Yangyang interjects. 

Mark continues like he doesn’t hear, “We see each other every day so it feels weird… to be close.”

  
  
Yukhei’s words are firm. “But being friends means we can have fun. It’s not like we’re doing this seriously. We’re not marriage hunting.” He has gotten what he wants most out of this so of course he will defend his decision wholeheartedly.

  
  
“Truth Or Dare would have been easier.” Mark sounds completely downtrodden and the light above his head dims to the tiniest light.

  
  
They all sit and fester in the spoiled mood for a long silence before Donghyuck surrenders. “Okay, it was a bad idea. We can do something else.”

  
  
“Just one more round,” Renjun says, already reaching for the can. “One more round and I’ll straight up tongue fuck whoever comes up next.”

  
  
They all watch him spin it. The can tumbles chaotically before stopping, pointing right at Jeno. The two of them look at each other for a moment. Renjun’s eyes are wide because of what he’s just announced and Jeno sits a little shocked because, of course, his first and only kiss of the game would be with his crush’s roommate.

  
  
Donghyuck raises a curious eyebrow, but Jeno doesn’t see it because he’s watching Renjun crawl towards him. Why does his heart rate speed up? Why is he… excited? Renjun comes close. He props his wide hands up on Jeno’s thighs and brings their faces close close close together and now they are _kissing_. Renjun is more forceful than Jeno expects and he instinctively submits to Renjun’s pace. Jeno tilts his head a little and accepts Renjun’s tongue into his mouth, between his teeth, and then up against his own tongue. Before he knows it, Jeno raises a hand to Renjun’s chin and presses their chests together. Jeno can feel the lightning deep inside of him _stir_. When he shuts his eyes, he can feel Renjun’s magic too: illusions. He sees himself flying, and then falling, and then looking out over a wide stretch of white sand beach. Jeno feels Renjun move even closer to him, feels his breath catch in his own throat, feels a sudden surge of electricity jolt up his spine like this is destiny.

  
  
Jeno opens his eyes. That hollowed-out feeling in his chest completely leaves him, making him feel his old self again.

  
  
The lights come back on.

  
  
“Finally,” Sicheng exclaims, glancing up at the ceiling light.

  
  
Renjun pulls away.

  
  
“Wait,” Yangyang says, still looking up at the ceiling, and Jeno can feel it, too. A hammer being brought down on him. A moment later, the lights go back out again.

  
  
They all make noises of disappointment. 

Renjun moves back to his spot in the circle, not looking the least bit shaken up after that kiss. Jeno, however, has never felt so stirred up. He tugs the hem of his leather jacket further down across his lap.

  
  
“Should we call it a night?” Mark wonders. He hasn’t bothered refreshing his lantern spell again. Now they all sit in proper, uncomfortable darkness. “I’m tired.”

  
  
“And I’m getting chilly now that the heat’s been gone a while,” Yukhei points out.

Sicheng rubs his palms together for warmth.

  
  
“Alright, then. Good night, guys,” Donghyuck says, standing. “Get your asses out of our room.”

  
  
The other boys start gathering their things. Renjun offers to walk Sicheng back to his room but Sicheng doesn’t hear him because he’s offering to walk Yukhei back to his room. Yangyang jumps in then, asking Renjun to accompany him and Mark on their long walk to the north dormitory. 

They all file out of the room, no longer concerned about prefects or kisses or games of Truth Or Dare.

  
  
It’s just Jeno and Donghyuck in the room. One sits on the edge of his bed. The other still sits on the floor feeling shaky. Jeno wants to ask Donghyuck if he can kiss him right now because he can’t shake the feeling that this is the only chance he’ll ever get to do it, but Donghyuck, like the rose inked onto his neck, looks painful to the touch as he lounges back on his bed.

  
  
“How long were we making out?” Jeno spits out. “Renjun and I?”

  
  
“Barely five seconds,” Donghyuck mutters. “Why?”

  
  
Only five seconds? Only the _minimum_? Jeno swallows hard, hating to admit to himself that it felt like longer, that he wished it had been longer. Jeno’s lips still tingle. “He’s really good,” Jeno says without meaning to. Or maybe he does mean to. Maybe he wants to get Donghyuck a little jealous.

  
  
The boy doesn’t take the bait. “That’s nice to know.” His voice has that familiar, hurried edge to it. Quick as a knife.

  
  
“Yeah. It is nice to know. For future reference.” Jeno’s thankful for the dark because he knows he can’t say something like that if he could see Donghyuck’s face.

  
  
“You wanna kiss him again?”

  
  
“I do want to kiss him again.”

  
  
“Okay,” Donghyuck says, but he sounds genuinely bored.

  
  
“Okay,” Jeno repeats, but with all of his desperation laid bare.

  
  
Donghyuck either doesn’t hear it or ignores it. Jeno never has been good at speaking his language. “Good night,” the star mage says, falling back onto his bed.

  
  
“Good night,” Jeno says, standing up to leave. 

All he ever wanted was to be able to communicate with Donghyuck the way Renjun and Chenle do, with rushed and bossy-sounding sentences with barely a breath in between like they know what the other is going to say.

Instead, all he and Donghyuck can seem to do is repeat each other.


	6. Lee Jeno And The Mud Flat Of Salamanders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a surprise gift.

March 2019

  
They are out in the rain. 

Thunder booms. 

It’s dark as shit out. 

The wind whips through the trees and Jeno feels like he could have left the raincoat at the dorm because he’s soaked to the bone and shivering even with it on.

  
  
“Well, maybe if you _buttoned it_,” Donghyuck snaps when Jeno complains.

  
  
Jeno huffs because, deep down, he doesn’t want to admit he hadn’t thought of that… but it’s too late because he’s already drenched. Instead, he turns to Jaemin, “You wanna tell us why we’re out here at ass o’clock? I don’t appreciate getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.”

  
  
“I just need you to shut up and follow me,” Jaemin retorts. He works his way through a few quick spells and the thorny brambles blocking their path untangle themselves and pull apart enough for the trio to sidestep through.

  
  
Jaemin goes first. He chants a spell to solidify the mud to keep it from sucking at their shoes. 

Jeno goes second, more than a little tempted to shove the earth mage into the briars. “No. I’m not shutting up. You’re telling me what we’re doing and you’re telling me now, or I swear…” He doesn’t actually have a threat but he and his roommate have fought enough times that it doesn’t matter now.

“Calm down, lovebirds,” Donghyuck quips as he brings up the rear.

  
  
Lightning flickers high in the sky and makes the trees look terrifying for a blink. Jaemin half-slips on the wet ground, catches himself against the flat of a rock. “I need salamander mud,” he grunts as an answer. “It’s important.”

  
  
“Great. Just great.” Jeno stops walking because, good god, they really came out here to collect mud? Well at least now the large plastic bucket he is forced to carry makes sense. “Why’d we have to come? You could have did this madness by yourself.” 

“Shut it,” Jaemin says. He leads the group farther and farther away from the path.

  
  
The woods thicken and the ground slopes sideways so sharply that Donghyuck is caught off-guard. He lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp before slipping to the bottom of the incline.

  
  
“Donghyuck! You okay?” Jeno nearly slips down the slope himself as he goes running after the boy.

  
  
Donghyuck is red in the face from embarrassment and smacks Jeno’s hands away. “I’m fine. Surprised more than anything.” He stands up on his own. “Damn, I didn’t even see the hill,” he turns around and his eyes are level with Jaemin’s ankles but now it’s quite obvious to at least two out of the three of them that it’s hella _dark_ out and that this could have at least waited until the storm passed.

  
  
“See,” Jeno points up at Jaemin. “Now I’m starting to wish you came out here by yourself. Maybe you would have took that fall instead and snapped your neck and no one would have ever found you.”

  
  
“Fucking shut it.” Jaemin makes his way down the incline. “We need to go this way anyway.” He stomps past them without even checking if Donghyuck is injured.

  
  
“We’re still technically on campus,” Donghyuck states. “Somebody would have found him.”

  
  
Jeno snorts but falls into step behind Jaemin again. Minutes pass. They leap over a tiny stream that threatens to overflow its banks after all of the rain. The three of them have to clamber down another steep hill, but then the ground levels out and the calf-high grass gives way to wide, stinking mud flats. “Gosh, Jaemin. Did you fart? Did you shit your pants?”

  
  
“It’s the salamanders. They have a pretty distinctive scent.” Donghyuck is always informed.

  
  
“This is where we set up,” Jaemin announces and the next twenty minutes are spent shouting commands or shouting refusals to be commanded. They set up a tarp to keep the rain out of the mud that they collect and then, according to Jaemin’s instructions, proceed to crawl on their hands and knees across the flats, looking for salamander mud. “It’s orange,” Jaemin explains. “The mud, I mean. It’s orange. And glows. From the chemical reactions of the salamanders nesting.”

  
  
Not only does Jeno not care why mud is orange but he also can’t see in the dark. He yells both of these things.

Jaemin reminds him, “It glows! That’s why we have to do this at night.”

  
  
Not twenty seconds later, Donghyuck finds salamander mud beneath a fist-sized rock, along with the sleeping salamander it belongs to. Donghyuck has always been decent with animals to not be an earth mage so he successfully scoops a fistful of orange, glowing mud from around the creature without even waking it up. He gently sets the rock back on top of it and then he rushes to their lined up buckets to drop in his fist fulls of mud.

  
  
“This is going to take all night,” Jeno bitches. “Why the hell do you need all of this mud?”

  
  
“Pottery,” Jaemin says with such a straight face that Jeno immediately believes him, but then again he _can’t _believe it, so he continues to fuss.

  
  
Jaemin finds the next salamander. Startles it. Bright flames seep out from beneath its scales as it frantically scrambles further under the mud. Fortunately, this makes scooping out the mud a little easier and he gets four fistfuls of the stuff.

  
  
“No wonder you needed help. This is a rather strenuous task,” Donghyuck says, but he’s found another nesting spot.

  
  
Jeno hasn’t found any salamanders and he’s certain he’s looked under the most rocks out of all of them. When he finally does find a salamander, he’s reckless about scooping up the mud, wakes the beast and it spews embers that sizzle under the rain and burn his fingertips before it scurries out from under the rock, scales steaming.

  
  
They are out there for hours and Jeno really hates that Donghyuck and Jaemin are holding pleasant conversation. He has never been able to communicate with Jaemin without either of them yelling so he can’t stand how easily the two of them get along. Then again, Jeno remembers that stars can be deceptive. They appear bright but are actually extremely far away and colder than anyone knows. Just earlier that day, Donghyuck was going on about how Jaemin’s new haircut made him look like a complete nerd. A dweeb. Something! Jeno forgot the exact silly word he used, but it was _hilarious_. A goon. That’s what it was! Jeno had laughed ten solid seconds over it and Donghyuck had to kick him in the shin because they were in the middle of class.

  
  
The storm stops just before dawn but they stay out there until the sun is about to rise above the horizon before Jaemin determines that the three buckets they have filled is enough mud for his project so they begin the slippery, quiet trek back to their dormitory.

  
  
It’s still early enough for curfew to be in effect so they must sneak in through the back but, luckily, Jeno knows all of the shortcuts over the walls and through the gardens. He guides them clear of all of the prefect patrol areas and it isn’t until he is picking open a lock and ushering them into the indoor pool building that he realizes why Jaemin insisted on dragging him out of bed for this in the first place.

  
  
Salamander mud stinks. Completely reeks. The room Jeno and Jaemin share smells like shit for days, long after the buckets of it have disappeared from Jaemin’s side of the room. To add to Jeno’s frustration, that Friday, there is a class expedition out to that very same mud flat to collect salamander mud so there is even more buckets and even more crawling but at least they go in the middle of a warm, sunny day. The salamanders are in much better tempers. They hold still long enough to be photographed or drawn.

  
  
Two weeks later, when Jeno has completely forgotten that he’s even helped Jaemin with the mud, a strange parcel shows up on his bed after classes.

  
  
He unwraps the twine holding dark brown paper around an object and then he examines it. It’s a bowl. Beautifully shaped, neatly patterned and expertly glazed. It fits in the palm of his big hands like it is made for him. Tiny but significant runes mark the surface of the bowl. Jeno recognizes the power words of quite a few: guidance, protection, purity, sealing, clarity, truth.

  
  
It pisses him off.

  
  
The pieces slot together in his head. The bowl is orange and glows a bit in the dimly-lit room because the bowl is made using clay colored with salamander mud. Bowls like this are necessary for practicing darker magic, for storing blood so it can be used for spells, and Jeno realizes that if he keeps this thing that Jaemin made for him, he’s admitting to his illegal activities. He is announcing his guilt of practicing a banned magic. 

What really pisses him off, though, is that Jaemin did not lie about the pottery thing.

Jeno smashes the bowl on the floor and kicks the fragmented pieces across the masking tape to Jaemin’s side of the room.

  
  
The two of them don’t talk about it, but the mess stays on the floor for days. Nearly a week. And just when Jeno is starting to feel a bit guilty about what he has done, he wakes up one morning and the mess is all gone.


	7. Lee Jeno And The Super Delayed Pop Quiz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lunch date.

September 2018

  
Magic is a thing that is hard to classify.

  
  
Write it all down and the rules and history gets cluttered with contradictions. Research proves difficult with all of the international laws locking countries out of sharing certain categories of information with each other. The same facts can have staggeringly different sources, depending on the database. Magic comes from within - from some spiritual place - most sorcerers would argue, yet there is also something so physical about it. It directly affects and is affected by health and mental state. It uplifts. It transforms. But magic also damages and _breaks_.

  
  
Magic is the manipulation of cosmic energy or it is the beckoning of natural forces. People with no skill in the craft call it bargaining with god. Scientists call it some polysyllabic name a paragraph long that only doctors can make heads or tails of.

  
  
The conspiracy theorists on early-morning talk shows call it ‘potential.’ 

The creeps on the dark web label it fascism.

  
  
Lee Jeno calls magic a bit of an annoyance.

  
  
“Why does this keep happening,” he moans. He rubs the raw pink skin of his knuckles. “It just does it randomly now. The lightning just _jumps out_ of me. One minute, I’m struggling through a pop quiz, the next minute, we’re filing out of the classroom because I started a fire with a stray bolt.” It still stings his hands. His arm is still partially asleep from the jolt. Whenever his magic gets unstable, it always seems to leave him through his hands. The muscles in his fingers feel locked up, as if some leftover lightning manhandles his nerve endings. “It’s the third time this month. Not that I’ve been counting or anything.”

  
  
He’s talking with Yukhei. Or at least he thinks he’s talking with Yukhei. Because Yukhei has his back turned to Jeno and rummages through jars of ground spices, mysterious liquids, plant leaves and mushroom caps on his wall-high shelf without giving Jeno so much as an affirming grunt.

  
  
Jeno keeps on. “It’s been three months since I’ve discovered my affinity for lightning magic so why does it still backfire? Why does none of this extra tutoring help?” He tries to swing his arms out for emphasis but only ends up banging a hand against Yukhei’s desk chair which just reignites the pain of his burns. He cries out in agony. “Hurry up, will you. I just might be dying.” He came to Yukhei for a burn cure because, out of the two earth mages he knows, Yukhei is actually pleasant to be around. “Am I broken?” Jeno asks. He looks his red, swollen hands over. “I mean, I’m not working the way I should. My magic… How can I cast spells without… casting a spell?”

  
  
Yukhei finds what he is looking for, spins away from his shelf and approaches Jeno with a tiny, inconspicuous bottle in his big hands. Yukhei looks nice today, Jeno thinks. His shirt and pants are freshly pressed and still smell like starch. His hair is so gelled down that the breeze coming in through the open window does not move a single lock out of place. It is as if Yukhei is on his way out for a date or something. He says, “I made this at the beginning of the quarter but it should still be potent enough to heal you.” He pops the cork on the bottle and puts his finger over the mouth of it before flipping it upside down, giving it a shake. Jeno can’t quite tell what the mixture is. He just knows it smells to the high heavens and is as sticky as glue when Yukhei rubs it over his palms and knuckles.

  
  
“Heal me?” Jeno winces. “This _hurts_!” It feels icy cold and scalding hot at the same time.

  
  
Yukhei fixes him with a look. Unlike everyone else Jeno knows, Yukhei does not bother to comment on his whining. 

It takes minutes of rubbing and massaging for Jeno’s skin to absorb the strangely thick cream and by the end of it, his hands are so numb that he can’t even feel Yukhei gripping his fingers. 

The earth mage says, “Try not to lift anything until you get the feeling back. Whatever you grab will probably slip right out your grasp.”

  
  
Jeno nods. “Thanks.” At least he is no longer in pain.

  
  
“Wrap it with this,” Yukhei puts the cork back in the bottle and retrieves a roll of gauze off of his desk. He hands the entire roll to Jeno, reconsiders, and then begins unraveling it. “Hands out.”

  
  
Jeno extends them and, slowly, Yukhei coils the gauze around Jeno’s hands. With Yukhei so close to him, there is no way Jeno does not have his full attention so he pushes on. “What if the school administration has my affinity wrong? Or maybe this is a curse? Who would do that? Who would curse me? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  
  
Yukhei pauses his movements to glance at his watch. He makes a surprised noise when he calculates the time and then he returns to his first aid procedures, speeding up his movements. “I’m pretty sure it’s not a curse, Jeno. Curses have pretty detrimental side effects but even the nastiest ones only last two or three hours. You said this has been happening to you for _weeks_?”

  
  
Jeno nods.

  
  
“Then it’s not a curse. Unless whoever put a curse on you is refreshing it every other hour… but to do that, they’d have to come in physical contact with you multiple times a day.”

“Well then, it’s got to be Jaem-”

  
  
“It can’t be Jaemin,” Yukhei cuts him off, surprisingly defensive of his fellow earth mage. “If he could even cast a curse like this, it would be complicated… It would require time and a boatload of ingredients. Besides, you live with him. You’d smell the dark magic on him.”

  
  
Dark magic. The words echo in Jeno’s head and he wonders if his lightning magic acting up has anything to do with his… more than habitual forays into blood magic and demon summoning. He doesn’t want to think about it so he changes the topic. “Sorry about today. I ruined everything. In class, I mean.”

  
  
Yukhei finishes with his bandaging job and puts the roll of gauze back on his desk. He takes another prolonged glance at his watch and only then does it dawn on Jeno that Yukhei might be in a hurry. Yukhei says, “No. Don’t be sorry about it. The whole class should throw you a thank you party. You got us out of that stupid pop quiz.”

Yukhei laughs it off but Jeno feels bad about everything. The fire. The interrupted class. The stench of smoke that still lingers on his clothes. Every now and then, he sees phantom trails of the white hot lightning bolts when he blinks and if he wasn’t so used to it by now, it would terrify him. “I didn’t mean to. I never really mean to. You know that. All of this lightning stuff… it gets worse and worse. If I could at least figure out the cause, I could work on fixing it.”

  
  
“It could be attached to your emotions. Are you particularly stressed?”

  
  
“I share a room with Jaemin. What do you think?”

  
  
Yukhei shrugs.

  
  
“Do you think my ink is fading?” Jeno’s voice goes super dramatic, like the announcer in a movie trailer. “Is there a hole in my defense matrix?” He glances at his left forearm, where the ink of his containment marks swirl up his bicep. An anchor. An octopus. A ship on a collision course with a jagged set of rocks.

  
  
Yukhei follows his gaze. “I don’t think it’s got anything to do with your ink. The marks are still doing what they are supposed to do.”

  
  
“Maybe the headmistress didn’t ink me enough. Maybe they should cover my chest with the tattoos, too.”

  
  
“Jeno, everyone has different amounts of control over their magic. Every sorcerer is different so the marks we all get are literally made specifically for our needs. We find that out when we enroll.”

  
  
Of course Jeno remembers his enrollment. The long tests. The ‘this is why I deserve a spot at the academy’ essay. The headmistress’s massive wooden desk with the statue of a lion on the desk that wasn’t really a statue but an actual lion whose size had been magically reduced. Jeno remembers the headmistress’s long, spidery fingers and pale pink nail polish as she held an old-fashioned magic wand and waved it over Jeno’s head like she was searching for lice. He also remembers the tedious, painful 12 hours spent beneath her tattoo gun, the sessions split across all three days of orientation.

  
  
It was madness. All of it.

  
  
Jeno has one more big question, “Am I bad?”

  
  
“As in,” Yukhei pauses, “are you evil?”

  
  
“No, am I bad?”

  
  
“What do you mean?”

  
  
“Am I an awful sorcerer? I mean… look at me, Yukhei…” He holds up his arms, showing off his tattoos as if they aren’t always clearly visible because he’s allergic to shirt sleeves.. “Sicheng just has the tiny little…” He runs his index finger around his wrist, where the small containment mark lies on Sicheng’s skin. “And you’ve just got the…” He points to the underside of his arm.

  
  
Jeno thinks about all of his friends and classmates. Yangyang’s graceful white owl on his ribcage beneath his armpit. The thorny rose on Donghyuck’s neck. The turtle on Chenle’s lower back. Mark’s geometric pattern salaciously low on his hip bone.

  
  
They all had such small markings yet here Jeno was with two of his limbs covered black by ink. “Is my magic _that_ chaotic?” He is having a real breakdown now. “Is it so all over the place that they had to chain it down so far inside of me? I mean, they did a sucky job. It still gets out.”

  
  
“Jeno,” Yukhei says to get him to stop talking.

  
  
“Yukhei,” Jeno mimics him.

A short quiet, then...

  
  
“I really wish I could help you in the way you seem to want me to help you, but I can’t. Not that I don’t want to… but the kind of problems you’re having falls way outside of my know-how.”

  
  
This is the exact opposite of what Jeno needs to hear. “Well, what kind of problems am I having? Do I need to eat more vegetables?” He’s grasping at straws here. “If it’s not a curse and it’s not the school’s administrative mistake, then what is it? Why does my magic turn against me?”

  
  
“Didn’t I _just_ say it’s out of my know-how?” Yukhei scrambles to piece together the words of the language in his head before he blurts them out. “I cure rashes and clear acne and have creams to stop headaches or open up clogged sinuses. I know nothing about lightning.”

  
  
“So you’re saying I should ask Yangyang.”

  
  
“Or something.”

  
  
“But he hates my guts. And it’s the worst kind of hate because he does it with a smile on his face. How am I supposed to ask-”

  
  
“I don’t know, Jeno,” and the words are slightly terrifying because Yukhei raises his voice to say them. “Start wearing rubber gloves or something.” It might be a joke. It might be a serious suggestion. “Or go give a car a jump start.”

  
  
Jeno looks up at him and then down at his bandaged hands. “What if I really fucking hurt someone someday?”

  
  
He’s still looking down at his hands so he doesn’t see the terror in Yukhei’s eyes as the earth mage takes a preemptive step backwards. However, he straightens out his expression when Jeno looks up at him again. He even manages a polite smile. There’s a long moment where it seems like Yukhei might tell Jeno something, but whatever it is, he decides against it. “I gotta go wash my hands,” he mutters, nudging Jeno towards the dorm room door. “I’m also meeting Sicheng for lunch, so…”

  
  
Jeno gets the hint and steps out into the hall. Yukhei locks the door behind them, waves over his shoulder and heads off down the hall like there’s a million other places he’d rather be. 

This leaves Jeno to stand there in the wake of Yukhei’s departure like a commuter gaping at the taillights of their bus pulling away from the curb half a block in front of them. 

  
Jeno stands there for a moment, listless and distraught. In the moments he is recovering, Jisung walks up beside him.

  
  
“Oh,” Jeno startles when he notices the tall boy next to him. “Hey, pal.”

  
  
The underclassman smiles, his eyes half-hidden by bright blue hair desperately in need of a touch up. Jeno looks him up and down, sees that Jisung is carrying a hefty stack of textbooks and binders against his chest. Well, at least _some_ people still had their morning classes. Jeno tries his very hardest not to let his eyes linger on the Fibonacci spiral on Jisung’s clavicle, the design so small and the linework so thin that it’s barely there. “Hi,” Jisung mumbles because he mumbles everything.

  
  
“Hey,” Jeno says, only to realize he’s already greeted the guy. “Sorry, it’s been a really long morning. I can’t feel my hands.” He holds them up to show off the bandages.

  
  
The two of them start walking and Jeno tries his damndest to remember what type of magic Jisung practiced. Scrying? No, that’s Chenle with his mirrors. It takes Jeno until the end of the hall for it to come to him: sound! Jisung’s magical affinity makes him ultra-sensitive to noise which is surprising because he hangs out with always-shouting Renjun a lot.

  
  
Jeno speaks up, “I don’t know if you’ve heard but there was a fire in one of the lecture halls this morning and it was me who started it. Accidentally. My magic’s shorting out on me again and I don’t know what’s causing it and I think it’s got something to do with the fact that I have all of these,” he waves his arms, “and you only have that.” He points to the thin lines inked into Jisung’s skin. Jisung glances down, but of course he can’t see the mark on his chest without a mirror. “I’m worried,” Jeno continues. “What’s wrong with me?”

  
  
Jisung says, in his short-sentenced way, that not all questions are easily answered and that school is all about self-discovery and that Jeno’s still young and they all should use this time, surrounded by the school’s ancient walls, to experiment and make mistakes and live worry free because once they graduate and take their first step into the ‘real’ world, they are bound to be devoured by their problems and burdened by their obligations, forced to live rather rigidly in modern society’s terribly specific roles, rules and guidelines so, right now, in the current moment, at this school where they have each other, they should all bask in what little freedom they have left. “Want lunch,” are his exact words.

  
  
Apparently, the quickest way to be worry free is to have a full stomach. “Sure,” Jeno agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @[Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/TheSwingbyJHF)


End file.
